


The Cover

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [64]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cake, F/M, Fluff, Food Fight, Ripped From the Headlines, Smut, gq, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:16:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Carmen finally reads the profile of Tom in GQ.





	

_But it's you I like_  
_Every part of you,_  
_Your skin, your eyes, your feelings_  
_Whether old or new._  
_I hope that you'll remember_  
_Even when you're feeling blue_  
_That it's you I like,_  
_It's you yourself,_  
_It's you, it's you I like_

Fred Rogers, “It’s You I Like”

* * *

Carmen decided it was time to get it over with, and read the stupid thing.

It was early, the eighth day of TomVent. The last day before his birthday. Scattered around the house were relics of celebrations from the previous seven days. The temporary tattoos of the library where they first met from day one (“What university makes tattoos of its libraries?” “Jealous, Cambridge?”). A squashy red nose, decorated with a few swipes of black marker to look like Tom’s head, from the second day. A bouquet of deep red cockscomb flowers that arrived on day six were still bright and beautiful in a heavy glass vase placed in the center of the dining room table.

It was there at the table that Carmen sat staring at a cake. It was a sheetcake, the top of which was decorated with an edible print of a picture of Tom. The cover of the March 2017 issue of GQ.

For an edible layer of sugar imprinted with the face of her beloved, it didn’t look half bad. The crinkles around his eyes looked a bit muddy, and there may have been a stray speck of edible glitter winking at her from his left eye. But it was him. Definitely him.

She compared the cake to the thing itself, a copy of the magazine. It had been in her possession for a few days but Carmen had let it sit in her briefcase. Even when Tom asked her if she wanted to read the copy in advance, she refused. And so she sat, eyeing it when Tom came downstairs, fresh from the shower, to make himself a cup of tea.

“Good morning, love.” He joined her, standing at the table to get a good look at the cake.

“Button.”

“Yeah?”

“That’s a cake.”

“Uh huh.” She looked up and smiled.

“With my face on it,” said Tom.

She nodded.

“Is that for TomVent?”

Carmen shook her head. “Nope. It’s your ‘Congratulations on your issue of GQ coming out’ present.”

“Oh.” Tom kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”

“It’s chocolate.”

“Perfect.”

“Your TomVent present is in the kitchen.”

“Does that mean you want me to go fetch it?” Tom grinned.

“Yes,” replied Carmen. She tapped the magazine. “I’m going to read this while you do.”

“Alright,” breathed Tom. “Just know that…”

“Tom.” Carmen took his right hand in her left and squeezed.

In the kitchen, Tom found a white bakery box, tied up with green and white twine. He was still for a moment, hands resting on either side of the box, straining to hear the sound of her flipping pages. One flip, then another. The sound of her chair moving as she squirmed in her seat.

Tom brought the box into the dining room and set it next to his usual seat. Carmen didn’t look up, so intent was she on reading the article. He returned to the kitchen, collecting two plates, a knife, forks. Another deep breath, then back to the table where he took the chair to her right.

This was a rare treat. The time at home, the time with her, all of it was precious but being able to sit and look at her, really look at her, was unique. Specific. As long as Carmen breathed, she spoke, laughed, joked, yelled, squeaked, sighed, moaned, groaned, whispered, and sometimes cried. As long as he was with her, there was always something to tell him. Something to share.

Head bent down, chin almost tucked into her chest, Carmen read the words on the page closely. She sat up when examining the pictures, tracing the shape of Tom as he sat in a cafe or pedaled a bicycle down the street. When she finished, she closed the magazine then pushed it aside.

Tom heard her sniffles before he saw the tears.

“Carmen, I…”

He stopped himself, pausing at the tightness he now felt in his chest. Was she going to yell? Fight? Run? They had discussed it beforehand, of course. The nature of the discussion, a perceived need for damage control, any kind of control of the story at all. Make a solid, heartfelt attempt at addressing the past in the hope of moving into the future, which was teased in the headline: “Tom Hiddleston Is Here To Conquer America”.

“You…” Carmen looked at his face, but didn’t move to touch him.

“What? I’m sorry…”

“What are you sorry for?” She whispered.

“Making you sad. I didn’t mean…” Tom began.

Carmen shook her head. “It’s not you. Believe it or not, but it’s true.”

“I believe you.”

“Good.”

“And I’m relieved.”

“You should be.” Carmen gave a short laugh.

Tom ducked his head, so he felt but did not see Carmen get up. She ran her fingers through his hair, then let her hands glide over his jaw, his neck and shoulders and arms, as he joined her in standing. Before he could wrap his arms around her, she hugged him first. And when she did, he relaxed. It was overwhelming, the warmth of her as it spread through him.

“She made it sound like you still wanted her.”

Tom daren’t asked who the “she” and the “her” were that Carmen referred to. He just nodded, then pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“She used you, I think.” Carmen sniffled. “They both did. It wasn’t what you signed up for.”

Tom squeezed her tight.

“I hated reading about that stupid tank top. I hate it. Being so far away.” She frowned. “Away from your friends. Your family. Your people who know and love you.”

“Thank you,” whispered Tom.

“I wish she’d written about the Globes. UNICEF. Thor and the big ape.”

“She only had so many words.”

“It sounds like she got what she needed.” Carmen looked up. “And now she gets to anoint herself the gatekeeper to your life.”

“It will pass,” Tom said.

“I know.” Carmen nodded. “I know.”

Tom was startled when she started to laugh. “What?”

“I can’t say that it was completely successful as a piece of journalism.” She squinted up at him. “Was that too harsh?”

Tom looked thoughtful. “For you or for normal people?”

“Dick!” Carmen slapped his ass. “I do have a compliment for her.”

“Oh?” Tom smirked. “Let’s hear it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t Pulitzer-worthy work. However,” Carmen’s eyes twinkled. “It wasn’t completely terrible as a work of fan fiction.”

“OH GOD.” Tom laughed, his body shaking while he still held Carmen in his arms.

“Though there is, like so much fan fiction that is good. I mean really good. So much better than what that writer lady posted. Did you know?” She wiggled out of his arms.

“No, and I’d prefer to keep it that way!” Tom growled, then closed the distance between them.

“Oh come on! It’s this story where you, like, travel in time and meet the love of your life on Valentine’s Day. But then…”

“Carmen.” Tom took her in his arms again. Just as Carmen grabbed a handful of cake and smeared it onto his face.

For a moment, all was still. Tom tasted the chocolate of the cake and the frosting, could feel a bit of the edible photograph stuck to his cheek. He tightened his grip and smiled.

“More.” He kissed her on the forehead. “More, please.”

So Carmen obliged. Between kisses and laughs, tugs on her shirt and pajama bottoms until she was down to her knickers, and then his own t-shirt and sweatpants, she fed him as much cake as she could when she wasn’t mashing it into his hair or smearing it across his chest.

If you had told Tom that he would begin the last day of his thirty fifth year on Earth naked in his own dining room, covered in chocolate cake and doubled over from laughing as hard as he had ever done, he wouldn’t have believed you. But he would have prayed for it to be true.

Sitting astride Tom as he lay on the floor, Carmen leaned forward and kissed him.

“You taste good,” she muttered. “Sweet.”

“Thanks, love,” he hissed when she began to suck on his earlobe. “It’s the fine work of the bakers at…”

“Tesco,” she said. “I got it as Tesco.”

When she tried to slide down, trailing kisses down Tom’s neck and throat, Carmen hit an unusually large patch of whipped cream and ended up lying on the floor next to Tom. Cackling at the opportunity, he flopped on top of her.

“Oof!” She shot him a dirty look. “Watch it, old man.”

“Shut up, brat,” Tom leered. “Dirty girl. I’m doing you…”

“ _I’ll_ say you are,” retorted Carmen.

“A FAVOR!” Tom cried. “Now please, allow me.”

It took only a few nibbles at her bottom lip to remove the frosting. He decided to leave the whipped cream at the crook of her neck for after, skipping ahead to her naked breasts. He pushed them together gently, licking at the cleavage before choosing her right nipple to suck. It was hard and sweet on his tongue, the taste of chocolate and her skin lingering as he turned his attentions to the left.

Beneath him, Carmen struggled for purchase, settling for grabbing a table leg in one hand. The other hand rested just so on the back of Tom’s neck. The floor beneath her was sticky in some places, slick in others. She herself was sticky in some places, slick in others.

Tom’s mouth was quick and light on her skin, and when he swirled his tongue around the hardened tips of her breasts, she arched her back into him.

This pleased him very much.

He flicked his tongue at her navel, laughing wickedly when she squeaked in protest. It was tempting to stop and rest, lay his head on her stomach. But the promise of what lay below tempted him onward. Lying on his stomach, Tom spread Carmen’s legs then set her thighs on his shoulders.

He started with the soft flesh of her inner thighs, which just seemed to be made for nuzzling. There was less cake, less frosting and cream, but it was no less delicious. The last thing he heard before greeting her sex with a slow lap of his tongue was a gasp, Tom’s own name, escaping from Carmen’s lips. And then it was the sound of his blood rushing in his ears, the scent of her sex and her own essence as he continued. The feeling of her clit as he teased it, gently sucking on it when flicking the tip of his tongue over and around it. One long finger, then another teased at her slit, pushing inside to feel her tighten. For each withdrawal, Tom would lick his the tips of his fingers clean then do it again.

He was hard, and while the friction between his own cock and the floor wasn’t entirely unpleasant, there were other, vastly superior ways to relieve his own tension. But she was so close, and she tasted so good, and her thighs were so warm. One more kiss. The gentle press of his lips to her clit followed by his relentless tongue, the insistent fingers that pumped in and out, reaching for and then finding that spot, just inside. And then all at once Carmen shook. Waves moving through her, stiffening her back. She could only hold on, and let the pleasure rock her. Exhausted from the laughter and the love, Tom pushed himself up and draped himself across her. Carmen bit his shoulder.

“Sorry, love,” he said. “I can move, give you a little room…”

 _“No.”_ Reaching for him, Carmen’s hand fumbled in the narrow gap between their bodies. Tom went up on his knees, and then she had took him in hand. “Now. I can’t… you have to… oh _fuck_.”

His breaths quickened, body responding in delight to her strokes. The sweep of her thumb across the tip, then just under the head. Tom let his hips drop, allowing Carmen to position him at her entrance, and then he entered her.

It would have been usual, romantic, to go slow. Carmen was still feeling a bit raw after coming, but she loved it when he fucked her like this. Looming over her, almost protectively though she knew he was at her mercy. Shifting above her, looking for that angle, the correct approach, so his pleasure was also hers. Searching her face when he could bear to open his eyes, he sought reassurance and connection.

But Carmen was greedy. She wanted weight and speed and force. His hands pulling on her hair, teeth biting into her neck, and him pounding into her. She wrapped her legs around him, tight as she could, and dug her hands into the flesh of his ass. Holding on, gritting her teeth and relishing the ache of her legs spread wide for him.

Tom was possessed. There was nothing but her, no desire nor instinct greater than to fuck her hard. To be inside her and chase it, the heat and the pleasure and the release. Watch her face and her eyes come alive when she came, laughing and urging him to join her. To come inside her, shudder before falling apart, and collapse into her arms. In her arms, where he could be happy and sad and confused and sometimes just plain weird. Himself.

Lying on the floor, covered in frosting and sweat and god knows what else, Tom and Carmen felt tired and weak and spent. Hugging each other, laughing against each other’s necks. They were home.

* * *

“Thank you for calling in sick today.”

Tom nuzzled Carmen, who sat beside him on the couch. It was nearly midnight, but they were only just then sitting down to dinner. It had been a long day. Cleaning the floor, Cleaning themselves. Having sex again. Napping. More sex.

Carmen took a bite of her pasta and hummed. She swallowed. “It was my pleasure.”

Tom squinted at the television where _Goodfellas_ was playing. “This again?”

“Uh huh.” Carmen reached for the remote to turn up the volume but he held it out of reach. “Give it! I need to hear this part.”

Tom glared at the set. “Don’t you already have this movie memorized?”

“No,” she huffed. “We don’t all have your memory.”

“Is that a symptom of your advanced age? Ow!” Tom recoiled when Carmen twisted his nipple through his t-shirt.

“Just for that, no pudding for you.”

“What is the pudding?” Tom nodded at the bakery box. “Can I open it now?”

“Well, as day eight of TomVent is coming to a close…” She smiled when Tom set down his bowl, reached for the box and untied the string. Watching his face as he opened it, she was glad to see him wear the biggest smile she’d seen on him in ages. “You like?”

“Button…” Tom’s eyes shone. “You got…?”

“Another sheet cake.”

“With the two shot of De Niro and Pacino at the diner in _Heat_.” Tom kissed her on the cheek. “It’s perfect.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Carmen kissed the tip of Tom’s nose, then nodded at the screen.

“Now pay attention to Paul here. He may be doing a year for contempt. But the garlic. Watch how it practically liquefies in the pan.” She yawned, then shut her eyes. “It’s a very good system.”


End file.
